


The Wall's Calling

by hesnotadream



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Crack, First Meetings, I was just really bored, M/M, Meet-Cute, Stucky - Freeform, i don't even know what this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-19
Updated: 2015-11-19
Packaged: 2018-05-02 08:07:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5240948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hesnotadream/pseuds/hesnotadream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“The number is right there! How could I not call him? It's like those big red buttons that says “do not press”, ya know?”<br/>“Those buttons which usually trigger the self-destruction?”<br/>“Exactly! Then I call”</p><p>##<br/>"Hello? Do I know you?"<br/>“No, absolutely not. Never met before. I'm Steve, nice to meet you. It's just that I had to call, you know? There is a whole wall dedicated to you, dude, a whole wall dedicated to Bucky Barnes. There's your name, your number, everything. Drawings, comments, criticisms. Anyway, there is entire section dedicated only to your ass. Do you really have a purple mark under your left butt cheek?”<br/>"Fuck."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wall's Calling

**Author's Note:**

> Review by (beta reader) : captain-bruhmerica on tumblr

“I’m gonna call him.”

“Don’t.”

“I have to, Sam. It’s a moral imperative. Categorical, maybe? Moral or categorical? Damn, I should review Kant.”

“No.”

“To Kant?”

Sam just shook his head and Steve grinned.

“The number is right there! How could I not call him? It’s like those big red buttons that says “do not press”, you know?”

“Those buttons that usually trigger self-destruction?”

“Exactly! I’m going to call.”

“Which part of self-destruction do you not…”

Steve called.

~

“Hello?”

“Bucky Barnes?”

“Yes, who’s there?”

“Oh, my God! This is incredible. The number is right, I can’t believe it!”

“I’m sorry, do I know you?”

“No, absolutely not. Never met before. I’m Steve, nice to meet you. It’s just that I had to call, you know? There is a whole wall dedicated to you, dude. A wall! It’s not a trivial matter, it’s a whole wall. With your number and everything. I wasn’t going to call, but you needed to know, so I pushed the fucking button! Of course I wasn’t expecting…”

“Wha-what?” Bucky stuttered, remembering to breathe for the first time since he answered the call. “A wall? A button? What the hell are you talking about?”

“Forget about the button. Focus on the wall: a whole wall dedicated to you. There’s your name, your number, everything. Drawings, comments, criticisms… the drawings are just brilliant: an attention to the details that leave you breathless. You didn’t know about it?”

“Where?” growled Bucky, ignoring the worried looks of passersby.

“Palazzo Savoia, there’s a bathroom on the ground floor. Right beside the contemporary history classroom. How could you not know about it? You know, I was kinda hoping that you had no clue, so that I could break the beautiful news. Anyway, there’s an entire section dedicated only to your ass. Do you really have a purple mark under your left butt cheek?”

“Fuck!”

“Is that a yes or a no?”

“Don’t let anyone get in, I’m coming.”

“There are poems about your butt,” Steve sighed. “Poems, do you realize this? I mean, I don’t know if I’m explaining myself, I’ve seen a lot of bathrooms full of graffiti, okay? I’ve seen thing that you can’t even imagine. This, though? This is…”

“Who could’ve done it?”

“Oh, I have no clue. Someone obviously started everything, but I can assure you that a lot of people joined the cause to carry on the work. It was a collective effort.”

Bucky yelped and started walking even faster.

“Are you touched? You really should. Can I … can I write something too?”

“Have you gone mad?”

“Oh, please. I have this desperate need to participate. It’s stronger than me, it’s like it’s calling me.” Steve giggled. “The wall’s calling.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and covered the last few meters running. He stopped in front of the bathroom and took a deep breath before knocking on the door with a calmness that he definitely didn’t have.

The door opened a few seconds later, missing his face by a few centimeters.

A hand grabbed his shirt and pulled him inside the bathroom.

“You’re here!” Steve cheered. “Bucky Barnes, in the flesh. I’m going to pass out, dear Lord. It’s like meeting a legend. Do you feel faint, Sam? I feel faint”

Bucky closed the call to prevent the stereo effect and and fixed his gaze on Steve: sneakers, jeans so tight that they looked like a second skin, and a t-shirt with a drunk panda on it. He was wearing a scarf. In June.

Bucky raised an eyebrow and for the first time he looked Steve’s face. Oh.

He swallowed trying to not get lost in the most beautiful blue eyes he had ever seen.

“Who’s he?” asked pointing at the boy behind Steve.

“He’s Sam. He’s my personal Christopher Turk.”

“He’s not racist, he’s just an idiot.” Sam sighed. “I told him not to call you. It was completely useless. Americans don’t know how to listen”

“Erasmus’s student?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, but I think I’m gonna stay,” he added with half a smile.

“For the great works of art that we have to offer,” Steve approved seriously.

“My God, so it wasn’t just a terrible joke?” groaned Bucky

“Ta da!” Steve sung, pointing at the wall and slinging an arm around Bucky’s shoulders.

Bucky froze.

“You should sign it you know? Giving it your approval. Your blessing. Let them see that Bucky Barnes has been here. Among the mortals. Like, ‘Bucky exists and is among you.’”

“That’s my butt,” Bucky whined, deaf to the words of the blond, unable to look away from the reproduction of his lower back.

“Realistic, isn’t it? Do you have the mark or don’t you?”

“My butt.” Buky repeated, shocked. “My fucking butt. My lower backside. My rear. My ass.”

Steve crossed his arms over his chest with an evil grin on his lips . “They wrote an ode about your ass. ‘His butt is one you can’t replace, the envy of the human race;'”

“Oh my God!” whined Bucky, turning his back to the wall

“Hey, I’m not through! ‘It looks so nice when he dances, and in those jeans… damn, what were the chances?’”

“Who could have done it? Who the fuck thought this was going to be god idea? I… What if it is a stalker? Someone crazy? What if they’re looking at us right now?!”

“Who, hey, no,” Steve went eyes widened. “Chill out. There are no death threats, here. Some constructive criticism, of course, but they are mostly positive comments.”

Sam bent his head to one side, he studied the desperate expression on Bucky’s face and he discreetly motioned Steve to keep talking. Steve shrugged and did so.

“His hair is soft,” he started reading in dreamy tone. “When he smiles I almost feel the need to wear my sunglasses. Winking should be prohibited by law for him. He’s a perfect exemplar for reproduction. You could bounce dimes off that ass. He can do a fantastic thing with his tongue that…”

“Can you stop?!” Bucky snapped, turning quickly on itself

“The people have spoken,” chuckled Steve, hands raised. “You have made so many people happy: you are like a god of sex.”

Sam shook his head and walked over. “Who do you think started it?”

“Great question!” Steve nodded. “ Who hates you this much? No, better: who loves you so much that they feel the urge to write it on a wall in a bathroom?”

“Who has your number?” asked Sam wisely.

“Well, that sure narrows the pool of suspects,” Steve grinned.

Bucky looked back at the wall and sighed. “Serena.”

“Bad break up? The 'I’m going to cut your genitals off’ kind or the 'I prefer to stab myself in the eyes than see you again’ kind?”

Bucky stepped back, stunned. “The 'I didn’t knew you liked boys too, stay away from me please’ kind.”

“You bat for both teams? I knew some of these comments didn’t make sense otherwise! Oh Lord, that’s what the 3rd poem meant! I was loosing my mind, but the only thing I needed to do was add a boy to the …”

“We need to clear it all.”

Steve shut his mouth.

Sam pursed his lips sadly resigned.

“I could call someone and tell them…”

“What?” asked Steve candidly. “That there’s an entire wall in a bathroom full of praise of your ass? It will be an interesting conversation.” He realized what he had just said and laughed. “I’ve managed very well, truth to be told. Let’s see what you can do, Mr. Nice Ass”

Bucky ran his hands through his hair. “Okay, we’ll paint it then.”

“No,” replied Sam and Steve simultaneously.

“You can’t be serious, this is a work of art. We are talking about a work of art. We can’t erase it. It should be handed down to our posterity.”

Bucky looked up. Fucking Steve and his fucking blue eyes. "No.”

“Why not? Are you afraid of the fame? It’s already too late for that.” With a nod, he pointed to the wall and to the many, too many damn writings. “You should have thought before you fucked almost all the student body.”

Sam nodded, lighting a cigarette.

Bucky opened his mouth to tell him that it wasn’t allowed but lost the words halfway. “I have not fucked almost all the student body,” he muttered, glaring Steve.

Steve clicked his tongue, not really believing him. “The real question is do you have standards? I mean, do you follow an order? Alphabetical, regional, sexual … I feel excluded, bro. Do not tell me it’s alphabetical. Where did you get to?“

“It’s not like that!” snapped Bucky, tapping him on the arm.

“I’m not judging,” Steve smiled, stealing the cigarette from Sam’s fingers. “It’s simple curiosity, believe me. You want a puff?”

“Hey,” Sam muttered, glancing up from his phone before deciding that they weren’t worth the effort.

Bucky stared at cigarette. Then the wall. Cigarette. Wall. Steve.

Bucky took the cigarette. “Fuck.”

“I want a wall in my honor too.” muttered Steve, absorbed, nudging Sam. "I was thinking the bathroom on the top floor. Sam, do you start it for me?”

Sam lit another cigarette.

“What if it becomes viral?” worried Bucky.

“The herpes?” frowned Steve.

“What?”

“What?”

“The wall! If someone takes a picture of it and the picture ends up on the internet and … and Granny.” He shook his head, terror in her eyes. “Granny just found out about google. Not… not Granny, no!”

Steve nodded and took a permanent marker from his pocket

Bucky forgot about the imminent panic. “Do you always keep it in your pocket? Does it seem normal to you?”

“You never know when it’ll come in handy” Steve shrugged. "And it’s perfect for the response to 'is that a marker or are you just happy to see me?’”

Sam nodded knowingly.

Steve took the cap off the marker. “Sign it.”

“You’ll have to pass over my dead body.”

“Sign it, sign it, sign it!”

“I have an eight year old nephew more mature than you.”

“You have to sign it. You have to. Think about Kant.”

“He’s delirious,” Bucky said, looking at Sam

“Like always,” shrugged Sam as he kept smoking.

“Listen,” Steve said pointing the marker at Bucky’s chest . “You have to sign it and make it official. Don’t you want to? If you don’t do it you’re not going to sleep well ever again. The wall will haunt you. You have to sign it. You need to do it and close the circle. Uh, there was an horror movie that had a plot like that, wasn’t it” here he lowered his voice, making it deep “ the circle must be completed.”

Bucky sighed and snatched the marker from Steve’s hand.

Steve’s eyes widened, but he kept a cap on his disbelief.

“I’m doing it. I don’t want to hear anything from you anymore.”

Sam and Steve positioned themselves behind him without looking away from the wall

Bucky started writing his name gorgeously right under the ode to his beautiful ass. “Here. Happy?”

Steve wiped away a nonexistent tear. “I’m touched.”

Sam nodded with the cigarette between his lips and the phone in his hand. He winked in Steve’s direction. Bucky looked at them, confused. “Now what?”

“Photoshoot!” announced Steve as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. He put an arm around Bucky’s waist and then positioned them both with their backs to the wall. Bucky didn’t even try to protest.

Sam started taking pictures.

“I feel objectified,” muttered Bucky.

“Let’s move.” Steve ignored him. “I want one with your but next to your face.”

“Yeah, why not.”

“It’s going to be a perfect background. Me, you, and your butt.”

Sam went on taking pictures

“One with your signature! You know, to show that it’s all true and official.”

“More than it used to be.” Bucky nodded

“If only I had listened to Sam, you never would have found out,” Steve sighed.

Bucky turned around looking at Steve with a serious look on his face. “ I don’t have enough words to thank you.” Steve turned around looking back at Bucky. “You’re planning on murdering me, aren’t you?”

Bucky smiled “Murder? Me? Oh, no. It’s going to be an accident, trust me. They won’t even find your body.”

Steve gulped and tried unsuccessfully to suppress a smile.

Sam grinned and took the shot. “Perfect.”

~

“Hello?”

“I succumbed, Bucky. The call was too powerful.”

Bucky groaned and closed his eyes. “You still have my number? Why?”

“Oh, come on, I know it by heart now. But that’s not the point. Your wall was calling me, okay? Someone would say it was just my need to pee, but I can assure you that no, it was the wall. So I went back to the bathroom and I did it.”

“I really don’t wanna know. Erase my number and…”

“Sam already did that.”

“What?”

“After you left, the other day. He took the marker and blackened your number.”

“Thank him for me.”

“Yes, yes, but that wasn’t the point. Shhh!”

Bucky bit his lip trying not to laugh.

“As I was saying, I went back to the bathroom and left my rate. Three stars”

“Excuse me?”

“I left my comment.”

“Three stars?”

“Yeah,” said Steve. Bucky could have sworn he heard a grin.

“Three stars out of five?”

“Obviously.”

“Why…” he stopped just in time.

“Oh, no, come on, ask it, please. Ask, ask, ask , ask, aaaaaaask.”

Bucky sigh “Why not five?”

The grin was now deafening.

“I’m not in the right position to express an opinion,“ said Steve, serious as ever. "I do not have enough evidence to be able to …”

“Caffè degli Artisti in twenty minutes?” interrupted Bucky.

“I’ll bring the marker.”


End file.
